


The chokesex containment draft

by Ossicle



Category: One Piece
Genre: A really good fist fight, Amputation Kink, Arctic angst, Choking, Drabble Collection, Dubious Consent, Light Bondage, M/M, Outtakes, trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-08-03 17:51:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16330790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ossicle/pseuds/Ossicle
Summary: Gooey outtakes, false starts, and random scraps if you’re bored and up for some trash-picking. Actually only about 10% chokesex. Mostly KidLaw





	1. KidLaw morningfuck

**Author's Note:**

> I have this doc where I keep all the stuff I prune out of my other fics when I go off the deep end and it just turns into 5000 words of massive ooc and everyone getting choked out at once. I went through it the other day and yes, trash, but might as well post some of the more edible bits. Also scraps of abandoned fics and whatever else is lying around here. I'll post warnings with each chapter, but there won't be anything too crazy intense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet soft psychos, no warnings, jus necro jokes and fucking. From an abandoned followup to Life Drawing, discarded cuz it wasn't going anywhere

 

///[Law shows up randomly on Kidd’s ship with a bunch of booze, all tanked and flirty, which is weird because he’s been trying to play it cool recently. They drink all night and be embarrassing, messy dorks.]

 

///[morningfuck] 

Kidd swam into wakefulness slowly, roused from confusing half-dreams of hot waves surging against him… salty and sultry as a South Blue summer…

He opened his eyes to find a tattooed demon straddling him and leaning on his chest. Kidd couldn't see Law clearly in the early dawn light, but he could feel him clenched tight and hot around Kidd's painfully hard dick, slipping over and onto it slow but insistent.

The whole damn room was spinning. It was only dimly light outside… early morning? _Very_ early morning. Ugh.

“Think m’ still drunk,” Kidd declared.

“Hah.” Law seemed unconcerned, continuing to pull his pleasure from Kidd’s body with lazy rolls of his hips. “Go back to sleep then.”

“Mmmf.” Kidd rose to one elbow and took stock of things. “So we're fucking, huh?”

“That is what's happening, yes.”

“Nice. Keep me posted.” Kidd fell back to the bed and rubbed his eyes until sparks flared in his vision. Definitely still drunk.

“Yeah I'll just be here. On your dick.” Law raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah help yerself.”

“...Doing my thing.”

“Mhm.”

“... ...I can detach it and take this elsewhere if I'm disturbing you.”

“Mhfff.”

Law gave up and sank down on top of the mumbly redhead with a boozy laugh.

This was actually kinda nice… being all close and casual like this. Kidd didn't even mind the ungodly hour. He sleepily ran his hands over the curved spine and down. A stuttering breath brushed his neck when he spread his fingers around either thigh and dug black fingernails in, just a bit.

“Aa… nhhh…”

Law was still moving against Kidd, achingly slow, over and down and back, his cock trapped between them and dripping onto Kidd’s stomach. Their skin sticking and making slick little noises, all overheated and smelling like sweat and musk. And booze.

“Pretty sure you're also still drunk,” Kidd noted idly, lacing his fingers behind his head and watching Law through heavy lids.

“Nahhhh.”

“Yeahhhh.”

“Okay but you're _drunker_ and I caught you passed out and now I'm taking merciless advantage of you.”

“Okay deal.”

“So stay good and still for me.” Law reached up and closed Kidd’s eyes with two fingers.

“Heh… You want me limp? Is this like some necro thing?”

“Pft. As if. You’re way too stupidly hot to be convincingly dead.”

“Damn right,” Kidd preened.

“Not like… UGH. I meant temperature-hot, you LOUT.” Law huffed and fixed the impishly-grinning redhead with a stern glare. “That’s IT I’m leaving.”

He flopped off to the side and rolled away.

“Jesus.” Kidd caught him before he rolled onto the floor. “You _are_ still drunk.”

Law actually fucking chuckled. “And _you're…_ bad at being dead.”

“...thanks?”

Law lolled and grinned. He was, indeed, still drunk. They'd gotten pretty heavy into some unmarked bottles that Law had picked up on a Marine outpost raid. That shit had proven potent—it was still heating Kidd’s veins hours later.

Kidd was definitely awake now, and very aware of the urgent state of arousal he'd been left in.

“Can't leave til you manage the situation you got us into here,” he said, gesturing at it.

“I’ll do exactly as I please, Eustass-ya.” But he sank his head back with pleasure as Kidd pressed his weight overtop of him and put his mouth to his throat.

He could feel their size difference distinctly like this. Kidd was taller, broader and heavier; he covered Law easily. And he fit inside him so so perfectly. Kidd looped an arm under Law’s waist, holding his hips up so he was bent almost backwards against Kidd.

“Aa— _ahhh…_ ”

“Good?”

“Mm, yeah... I just want… this. Want you to fuck me… want you, all of you…” Law was rambling against his lips.

Kidd's brain shorted out at this, and he almost fucking dropped him.

“...Um. Dunno if all of me would fit. Broad shoulders.” Magnificent recovery.

Law gave the ceiling a perturbed look. “Oh no wait. I want you to die.”

“God, always with the necro shit—ow. Hey.”

///

 


	2. LawSan chokefuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actual chokesex, dubcon, consensual violence. This one went with my (now officially abandoned) LawSan, but I decided it was too harsh for Law’s character. Hot, though!

 

///[background is, Sanji and Zoro are a longstanding on-and-off, intense 'thing', Law is a shiny new thing set to steal Sanji away with delicious dark pleasures... go.]

 

Zoro watched through the cracked door as long tattooed fingers wrap themselves around Sanji’s neck, thumbs crossed over the Adam’s apple. He saw the pale chest patter with little panic breaths as the hands started to squeeze down. Strands of blond hair were stuck to his face with sweat, shifting and tangling as Law’s sharp, slow thrusts jolted him.

Sanji made a rasping sound that made Zoro flinch. “L… aw…” his hands started to twist in their restraints desperately.

“Shhh,” the hovering demon soothed him while still squeezing harder, fucking him through his pained tremors. “Just let it happen.”

Zoro turned away and sank down against the wall outside the door. He couldn't see Sanji’s face turn red then purple, his mouth gape or his hands clench. But he could hear the pained little breaths, picking up in speed… and then stopping. Just the sound of skin impacting against skin, a slick squishing.

 

///

Law heard the subtle thud outside the door. He could be observant when he wanted.

He looked down at the image of perfect brokenness under him. Sanji was fading out, tied down and split open on Law's cock, watching him with wide eyes.

Law leaned in close to his face, savoring the exact moment his eyes went unfocused and his body went still.

Fucking beautiful.

He relaxed his grip and the air rushed back into the pale body, the color shading back to normal. It twitched and coughed.

So the swordsman still hadn't run yet, huh.

Law cracked his open palm across Sanji's face. “Wake up.” He did it again and got a high, choked sound.

That did it. He listened to the retreating footsteps with satisfaction. He was only a little disappointed that Zoro hadn't burst into the room to ‘save’ his sweetheart. Then he could have seen how hard the slender blond was, how open and willing, even as he struggled. Law was perfectly willing to share.

He pulled out the knots restraining Sanji's hands and brushed the messy strands out of his eyes, so he could see both. As he felt him come around, he took hold of the stirring body again and ground in hard. So he'd come back into consciousness feeling himself being fucked.

A gasp and a jolt.

“Law,” Sanji croaked, a hand coming up to press weakly against the scarred, tattooed chest.

“Too much?”

The fingers clenched and unclenched. “A… Almost.”

“That a yes or a no?”

“I don't… fucking know.”

Law decided to interpret that liberally. He took the half-resisting arm and pressed it back against the floor, and began pounding into him again.

“Ah! Ahhh! Law!”

“Blackleg-ya… does it hurt?”

“Unh! It does, fuck, it hurts, everything hurts.”

Law felt himself edge toward his peak at that, palms tingling. “You want me to stop?”

Sanji wasn't clenching his teeth or tensing this time; his eyes were glazed, his breath warm and wet on Law’s face.

“No. Don't stop.”

Law let himself shake off the last of any caution and take up the bruising pace he'd wanted to from the start, jamming himself between quaking thighs and sliding with their sweat.

"Don't stop..."

"Not gonna. Not gonna stop til you're a smear on the fucking floor..."

"Mnn. Hands, put -- ah -- put your fucking hands on me."

Law fisted his rock solid dick and worked it over until the blond was gasping and twisting. But then Sanji shook his head.

"Not there..."

He slid his hand up shivering skin, stomach, chest, to rest threateningly on the long neck.

"Here?"

"Y-yeah."

Law squeezed. He fucked him with a tattooed hand crushing his throat, and Sanji came with a harsh shuddering cry that could probably be heard down the hall if anyone was still lurking there, hovering anxiously.

 


	3. Chaos fragments I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are fragments retrieved from my discontinued “Law and Chaos” Supernova fic. Premise is that five pirate captains are meeting for alliance talks, but mostly end up competing in dumb ways while the first mates sort shit out. 
> 
> No warnings for the first batch, just necro jokes and no fucking.

 

* * *

 

 

[Headless idiots]

///[They already crashed ships just from racing into harbour, laws ship got banged and now Law’s fkn mad and basically holding everyone hostage]

 

That _lunatic._

Kidd stood on the rocky beach with Law and Drake as they all gaped at their ships and Law's handiwork. For all the Surgeon of Death played it so cool and rational, he could be such an unholy prick. Kidd told him so.

“Trafalgar, you can be such an unholy prick. This is bullshit – _I_ didn’t put the dent in your shitty tub. It was Diez’s stupid fat tanker and Strawhat’s stupid fat FACE.”

“I will take no part of the blame for this, Eustass. Trafalgar, _do_ let us know when you’ve finished being unreasonable,” Drake hissed.

“If I can’t go anywhere, you jerks can’t go anywhere,” Law spat at Drake with quiet heat. “We’re all gonna sit here and play nice until my shitty tub is patched up and seaworthy again.”

His ‘shitty tub’ was propped up on the rocks like an absurd yellow beached whale, lifted out of the water under power of a particularly vast Room. Kidd’s and Drake’s listed precariously to either side, where Law had dumped them too for good measure. Their crews were standing around gaping, arguing, and setting up an angry din.

Drake clomped off to disperse the rapidly-developing inter-crew brawl, and Kidd cast a lethal look sideways. Law was wrapped in another long black coat with a collar up to his ears, and the half of his face visible under his hat was murderous.

“Penguin-ya: status?” he called.

“Fucked, Captain! No equipment damaged, but the hull got a dent I could swim in. And a seam is compromised – it’ll need to be popped back out and somehow resealed. Anyway, Bepo’ll have better info in a bit.”

“…Injuries?”

Penguin hesitated. “Minor. Ikkaku may have a concussion – she kinda cracked her noggin on the forward portal, little bloody in there...” Law growled and Penguin pressed on, “All being managed! Also there’s a Kidd pirate splatted on our deck? I guess he fell in the crash? He’s all spiky so he’s kind of… embedded.”

“I see.”

Kidd sighed heavily. “Killer! Get Midden scraped off the fucking sub and boxed up. And see if there’s anyone else still in the water.” His first mate delivered a sarcastic thumbs-up, and Kidd turned to Law impatiently. “Trafalgar, I can pop out and reform the damn hull later. You know I can. And your crew is _fine._ This isn’t that big a goddamn deal—”

“ _Shut_ up. I don’t need you crunching the whole thing or making it worse.”

“Why the fuck would I crunch it, idiot?”

“That’s what you DO. Don’t touch it. Wait. Just _wait,_ I need to think…”

Kidd whipped around toward his own ship, rumbling choice curses under his breath. He slowly began to lift the whole monstrous thing up with his powers, careful to apply pressure evenly all around the iron plating that blanketed the hull. Turned out it was way easier to squish a ship than to _not_ squish a ship… it took some concentration.

“ _I said_ WAIT.”

Law slapped the whole ship back down with a gesture, and it _gonged_ onto the rock. Several shell-shocked Kidd pirates staggered over its railing and plunked onto the rocky beach.

“Holy FUCK Trafalgar. So now you’re gonna dent MINE?” Kidd bristled and crowded into Law’s space, all towering menace and bared animal teeth. Law stepped up to meet him with a lethal grimace. The air crackled.

“Can you nerds please manage your dumbass captain,” Killer called wearily to Law’s crew.

“Nah.” “Nope haha.” “No one can.” “Captain is so strong-minded!”

The unmanageable captains carried on carrying on.

“Eustass-ya, I am not having a fight about this right now.”

“Sure as hell seems like you’re having a fight about this right now!”

“No…” Law cracked his nodachi from its sheath. Kidd went to propel it away with a thought, but Law had seen that trick coming. “I am not. _Room._ ”

There was a blue flick and a cold ripple as a sword blade went all the way through Kidd’s neck. His vision teetered and swung to the side... He could see his body standing in comical surprise as his head dangled from Trafalgar’s fist.

“Fuckin sick,” he murmured in wonder. He watched himself put a tentative hand to the smooth top of his neck. Jello-y.

“Fuckin score!” crowed Penguin.

Law smirked and turned back to his gleeful crew. “Penguin-ya, Sha—AAA—KKKHH— _rrroom!”_

Kidd had grabbed him and put a knife to his neck too. Law gasped out a Room and sent a blue film over the blade just as it passed through his windpipe.

Kidd, headless, dangled his prize triumphantly.

Silence settled over the beach.

This would have been one hell of a signal for any other two pirate crews to start murdering each other… but honestly, this wasn’t super out of the ordinary with these guys. The crews looked to the first mates for their cue.

“Okay, so is this fatal or otherwise irreversible?” Killer questioned Penguin and Shachi, who’d come down off their beached sub and were looking only mildly concerned… mostly about a notepad with a score tally and the heading ‘Kidd Pirates vs. Heart Pirates headshot totals.’

“Oh, nah. Well… probably not,” Penguin picked distractedly at his lip.

“Which means it doesn’t count,” Shachi argued, grabbing the notepad.

Killer pressed drily, _“Probably_ not?? And if I scythe your pretty heads off right now, would that also ‘probably not’ be fatal?”

“Oh, probably?” “Probably for you.” “You wanna try us, fuzzbot?”

Killer threw up his hands and turned away. Fuck em. Fuck their captain and definitely fuck Kidd. “Everyone back to work! Get the setup unloaded! Just some headless idiots over here, everything’s _fine._ FINE.”

“Kkkidd you fkkn—” rasped the severed head in Kidd’s hand. Law’s body put a hand to the un-sealed section of his throat, and smoothed the blue over it. “Kidd you deranged dogprick!! You almost killed me!”

“Hah, really? Huh.” That wasn’t an admission Kidd had been expecting to get so easily. “Didn't think it'd be an issue for you.”

“YES, it is an issue if you cut my head off without warning!” Law made a grab for his head and Kidd held it up out of his reach.

“You do this shit to people all the time, though, and they’re fine.”

“It has to be ME doing it, within the confines of a Room, idiot!”

“Got it. Hey,” Kidd turned Law's head over in his hands, “new hole.”

Kidd’s head was abruptly chucked into the distance.

 

* * *

 

///[Luffy sends Zoro to find Kidd’s head, and also the Sunny, because Law got pissed off and  went and chucked that too]

 

* * *

 

///[Other stuff happens, and ALL of the captains get into a massive brawl instead of having alliance talks. First mates enjoy cocktails in the pavilion]

 

There was an earth-shattering bang from directly outside the pavilion, but the first mates were on a roll. They’d written up a memorandum thing that might even work as the basis for an alliance. Robin was making notes in sharp, precise handwriting on Killer’s clipboard. Penguin and Shachi were sharing Law’s chair even though there were two others for them. Drake’s first mate was picking his teeth and being totally useless, and Bonney’s was outside, running around after her.

Killer had steered Kidd’s headless body into his chair with only a minor scuffle. It lounged there, jiggling its leg and making occasional hand gestures like he was carrying on a conversation elsewhere, but overall staying unusually docile.

Penguin marveled, “Oh my god, I think we’re accomplishing a thing.”

Robin smiled her mysterious smile. “Are all present captains or their representatives in favor of the terms as they stand?”

Killer elbowed Kidd’s body, which delivered a sarcastic thumbs-up.

 

* * *

 

///[Fuck-marry-kill]

 

“Oh shit, I think I’m signing something,” Kidd’s head frowned, far across the island. “Those sneaky bastards _._ ”

“Huh. I guess they’re moving things along over there. Worried?” Zoro adjusted the growly spikeball under his arm and continued his trek along the beach.

“Eh, Killer’s probably managing things. I didn’t really wanna sit through the paperwork anyway… Though, I guess, I kinda am? Technically.” Kidd grimaced from his spot tucked against the swordsman’s side. “You smell like old man.”

“Shut up.”

“This is boring.”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Settle down or I’ll make you ride in my haramaki.”

“Oh gross, fuck that...” Kidd just pictured it – like some nightmare baby bump. “Hey, stick to the shoreline.”

“I am. Shut up. It moves cuz of waves and stuff.” The green-haired swordsman coughed. “Anyways, it’s your turn: Boa.”

“Hmmmmmmm… yeah, okay: fuck.”

Zoro snerked and tried a few more names, all with the same result.

“Hawkins.”

“Fuck.”

“Bonney.”

“Totally: fuck.”

“Cavendish.”

“Yes GOD: fuck. Then kill.”

“Bartolomeo.”

“That’s a kill-fuck situation.”

“Drake.”

“Eh. Why not: Fuck.”

“Trafal—”

“FUUUUUHHHCK.”

Zoro just laughed at that. “Hah, really? I’d worry about losing my dick if I tried to stick it in _that._ ”

Kidd’s head attempted a shrug. “All part of the thrill, man.”

“You’re so full of shit, Eustass.”

“You saying you wouldn’t, given the chance?”

“Definitely not. That’s a kill,” Zoro stated flatly.

“What, really?? I said the Kidd Rules allowed for multiple choice. You’re not even gonna go for ‘fuck-kill’?”

“Nooope.”

Kidd scoffed at this. “Dude, you chose ‘kill’ for my entire list. One-note, much? You lose your dick wherever you forgot your eye?”

“Pah. I just got better things to think about.” Zoro scoffed right back.

“You are so full of shit, Roronoa. Okay, what about loooove. Is there someone in the ‘marry’ column?”

“ _No._ ”

“No? Not even, maybe… the leggy shipmate you said you’d ‘extra double kill?’”

“You want me to punt you into the fucking sea?” Zoro threatened semi-seriously.

“Fine. But just name one person for the ‘fuck’ column.”

“I dunno, man. But there’s this big loud hole right here that’s just begging to be plugged…”

“Oh hooo, _Mister_ Swordsman! I didn’t know you were into skullfu—PWAAAAAaaaaaaa...!!”

Kidd’s head was suddenly cutting a graceful arc back across the island as Zoro drop-kicked it right to hell.

 

* * *

 

///[Brain damage]

 

“And don’t talk to my crew. They all hate you.” Law sulked.

“H-hi Mister Eustass!” Ikkaku chose that exact fucking moment to come up with Bepo and Jean-Bart’s report on the sub, her bushy head wrapped in bandages. She blathered, “Um, how’s your head? Reattached huh? W-well obviously haha… Uh, is the rest of you okay too? Well, obviously the rest of you is amazing haha… I mean—!”

“IKKAKU shut UP. Gimme that.” Law grabbed the report and turned her back around toward the sub.

“Captain is also amazing haha… Mister Eustass, don’t be mad at Captain for the decapitation thing, he gave it back and that’s like a big deal. Bepo thinks it’s his way of expressing romantic int—”

“GO.”

She went.

Kidd watched Law stew. _“…She_ seems to like me okay.”

“She has brain damage.”

 

* * *

 

///[****k the system]

 

The multi-day talks format had actually been Luffy’s suggestion, something he'd picked up from his bigshot mentor, called the “Shanks Diplomatic Formula.” Luffy had burbled out the general idea to Law one day aboard the Sunny, with Nico Robin filling in the blanks:

In theory, every pirate captain got their day in the big chair, and rules could change daily if shit wasn’t going right. By alternating hosts, power imbalances would be evened out over the course of things.

(Robin speculated that this whole idea was leftovers from when Shanks was young and going through his pedantic commie phase, all heavy into the field of thought known as Radical Piratical Political Blabbicle or RPPB. RPPB (pronounced with a protruding tongue in the manner of a face fart) was some hippie noise to do with anarchism, autonomy, anti-authoritarianism and other multi-syllable words zero pirates including Shanks had ever uttered with their own two faceflaps. Shanks had even written a little-known treatise on the subject, titled, I shit you not: “Shank the System.”)

In practice, as with most of Shanks’ ideas, it was mostly a way to split the bill for multiple days of hard drinking.

 

* * *

 

///[Lord of the Friends]

///[Bonney brought a bunch of suckling pigs for roasting on her day, and does this whole pig-hunting spectacle thing because she's a goddamn barbarian. Pig heads on stakes outside her encampment, who the fuck invited her anyway]

 

“Torao! Hey, hey Torao, I’ll tell ya your fortune.” Luffy hunched behind Bonney’s creepy pig-head totem and wiggled its ears like it was talking.

“Strawhat, that’s a good look on you.”

“Torao, get this: What goes on two legs and is going to be Pirate King!”

Law sighed, but just went with it. “Shouldn’t you be asking ‘what lies in the hearts of men’ or whatever, to go with this whole… theme?” He delicately indicated the dripping pig’s head impaled on its stake.

“Oh! Okay what lies in the hearts of men?”

“Savagery and the lust for power,” intoned the Surgeon of Death.

“NAH.”

“…‘nah’?”

“NAH. It’s friendship!!”

Law wasn’t having it. “Okay, no. How often have you come out of a battle having made _friends.”_

“Nearly every time actually,” interjected Robin, from her lawn chair nearby, the pig heads seeming not to dampen her sunning routine. “Turns out it’s not that hard to show up and do the right thing.”

“Unbelievable. That’s not how one builds power in the New World.”

“Kinda is.” She shrugged and stirred her mojito with its umbrella stick.

Penguin whispered something to Law, who made a face. “I’m still not on board with this conflation of ‘allies’ and ‘friends,’ no. …Okay, yes, but… Okay, obviously crewmates are different, Penguin,” he reassured his first mate, who looked relieved.

///

 


	4. Chaos fragments II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another fragment from my “Law and Chaos” Supernova fic. Pirate party on the beach, flirting and fighting, but still no fucking

 

[Spitroast]

 

It wasn’t even completely dark yet and the crowd carousing on the beach was edging toward disorderly drunkenness. Bonney reigned at the head of it all, cackling and stuffing herself, atop a massive carved wooden chair. 

Not a bad party for their first night, Kidd thought.

Kidd was seated at the huge central table, which the Strawhat shipwright had handily thrown together with a piece of stone cut from the island itself. Smaller tables had been brought from the ships as well. Everyone was mostly still sitting with their own crews, but the alcohol was loosening the divides. Kidd was helping speed this process along at the main table, keeping everyone in arm’s reach topped up with drinks—supplied in great quantity by his own crew. This had drawn the heavy drinkers early on, especially Roronoa and the redheaded Strawhat girl. These two were good company (even if the swordsman wasn’t much of a talker), both the kind of seasoned rogues Kidd was used to. Roronoa had brought over some of his own reserves too, as an unspoken apology for drop-kicking Kidd’s head earlier on. Kidd was feeling too good to hold a grudge over something like that, anyway. There was booze and food and noise all around him, and a couple pretty good fights had broken out already. 

...Law was off somewhere and ignoring him again, but that was just fucking fine.

Kidd chomped at a pig that had been expertly spit-roasted by the Strawhat chef, Blackleg Sanji. Man… Kidd would like to spit-roast  _ that. _ The guy had the same lean, dangerous thing going on as Law. More muscular in the general legs area, though, and total opposite in personality: fiery and super social to Law’s reserved introversion. 

And clearly kind of a slut. Blackleg, at that very moment, was fluttering around the out-of-the-way table where Law, Nico Robin, and the dapper, skeletal Brook were collected in a sleek coven on their own. Like a goldfinch among crows. Brook plucked idly at a fiddle as they talked and laughed, a melodic minor counterpoint to the coarse drum-and-pipes music of the Bonney Pirates. The blond cook was plying them (Robin) with dainty drinks but failing to get them to join the rest of the party. They cracked good-natured jokes at his expense and he laughed graciously, soaking up the attention. Law created a minor sensation when he sneakily switched the cook’s cigarette pack with his own severed hand and apparently copped a feel.

A subsonic growl next to Kidd told him that he wasn’t the only one watching them. The green-haired swordsman was glaring at the group, like one of them had personally strolled over his nuts.

“You need another drink, huh,” Kidd suggested.

“Another few…” Roronoa agreed.

“You need to grow a spine and get over yourself,” Nami accused quietly.

Kidd slopped most of a pitcher into his buddy’s mug and didn’t even ask. “Let’s get you fucked UP.”

“What are they even talking about over there,” he muttered sourly.

“Probably having a super intellectual debate about what actually ~lies in the hearts of men~” suggested Nami, checking her nails. “Sanji’s probably like ‘LOVE,’ and Robin’s like ‘BLOOD.’”

The swordsman snorted. “Hah, yeah, and Brook is like ‘I wouldn’t know, I don’t have a heart yohohoho,’ and Trafalgar’s all ‘let’s gut a guy and see huehuehue.’  _ Pah.” _

Kidd thought that characterization was pretty much dead on.

Nami smiled as Blackleg gave up on the coven and came over to flutter at her instead. “How are things with Lone Survivor Club, Sanji?”

“Morbid, my dear. And yet so stylish.” He lit another cigarette and sat next to her. “They were – I shit you not – discussing moisturizer and mummification.”

She accepted the tiny glass he offered and gave in with fond exasperation when he tapped his cheek for a kiss.

“It’s both cheeks and the mouth where I come from, Mellorine.”

“That’s a goddamn lie,” she scolded, in what seemed like a practiced routine. Roronoa rolled his eyes heavily.

“…Lone Survivor Club?” Kidd asked.

Blackleg shrugged coolly, “They hang out and compare genocides they’ve evaded. Doomships they’ve drifted upon. Charnel pits they’ve crawled from. And Brook keeps it light with, well...”

“…I save a load on skin care –  _ because I have no skin! _ YOHOHOHOH!” the bony man’s hooting chortle echoed over.

“Don’t be so fucking blasé about it, Sanji, hun,” tsked Nami.

“Or so fucking into it,” growled Roronoa. “Kiss-ass.”

He received a sudden kick in the back of the head. “I was being SOCIABLE you INANIMATE OBJECT!”

“You--!”

“ZORO.  _ Sanji...” _ Nami dealt Roronoa a pre-emptive elbow to the eye as he went for a sword, and pointed a warning finger at Blackleg, who stalked off again. “Zoro don’t be a shit,” she added in an undertone, but left it at that. 

The swordsman grunted and resheathed the half-drawn sword with a snap.

Kidd barely registered their scuffle. “Sooo uh. Trafalgar and them seen some shit, huh. I figured  _ that _ bunch more villain than victim.”

Roronoa muttered into his mug, “You’re probably not wrong about  _ some _ …”

Nami talked over him at Kidd. “Hah, well. They do have a certain vibe, don’t they. But no – in Robin’s case, there was this whole crazy mass murder deal by the World Government when she was a child _. _ Big fucking conspiracy cover-up. I’m less sure of Law’s story, just hints via Robin. But… yeah, similar. ‘Charnel pit’ isn’t an exaggeration in his case.”

Kidd felt a sharp little twist of something in his chest that he thought might be empathy or… or… wait no, actually, it was jealousy. _Ugh._ Law never shared personal stuff like that with _him._ Kidd wanted to be privy to the childhood charnel pit stuff too. He would totally be into hearing about all the corpse piles baby Law had surmounted.

Roronoa was giving her a look, “Nami, should you really be—”

Kidd cut him off with a hand in his face. “Girlfriend, tell me more.”

Nami leaned in and gossiped on, ignoring the disgruntled swordsman between them, “I do know that he had some big score to settle with the Doflamingo family from way back, cuz, like: Dressrosa. He apparently joined them super young, right after escaping whatever happened before. So I guess he kinda crawled out of the charnel pit and into the… pyre?”

“That's so crazy.”

“Anyone want in on a mug of bleach?” Roronoa pushed away from the table and stomped off without waiting for an answer.

Kidd raised an eyebrow after him. “He got issues with Trafalgar, huh.”

“He…” Nami waved a hand around like she was looking for the right way to put this, “...got issues.”

“Oh really.” Kidd filled her cup to brimming. “Fuckin greenheads, though. You know that type are just a LOT.”

“Right? Anyway. I mean, Zoro’s usually pretty chill? Actually kind of a lump most of the time. But yeah, there's some people that just… mix badly with him.”

Kidd could sympathize with that. “Yeah, I mean, to be fair, Trafalgar doesn't go out of his way to be friendly—”

Nami made that dramatic groan noise again, drowning out the rest. “Nonono, it's not even Trafalgar! It's… Oh my god. I don't wanna gossip but he's… they're just… it's—”

“Oh  _ hey, _ party people,” the blond leggy situation made a sudden reappearance, and deposited a flowery drink in front of Nami. “Mai Tai  _ pour ma chérie, _ extra sweet… And what about you, big guy.”

Kidd shorted out for a moment as the cook came and perched on the table edge, practically in Kidd's lap. “What about me what.”

“What about you tell me what you like.”

Nami was making that noise again, but Kidd was just fine with this form of attention. “Heheh. Drinkwise? I usually go strong. But if sweet is on the offering I'm not opposed.”

He was rewarded with a sunny smile. “Versatile, huh? That's so refreshing.”

“Makes life more interesting. You?”

“I'm flexible.”

Kidd felt his entire face split into a grin, and went for a bold hand on the thigh brushing up against him. “Yeah I  _ bet _ you are. I'm… I'm uh…” he glanced sideways at the stool to his other side, where the swordsman had just plunked himself down and was gripping his fresh mug with stony intensity. “Oh.”

“Jesus and Jerry.” Nami downed her Mai Tai in one go.

“Over here, firebomb,” Blackleg nudged Kidd to get his attention back.

“Uhhhhhh…” Kidd looked back and forth between them all, trying to find a graceful way to handle this.

He stuffed an entire pork rib in his mouth.

“Um.” Blackleg's expression faltered for a moment. “You… like the roast?”

Kidd nodded, mouth full.

“You can fit a lot in there, huh.”

Kidd nodded faster.

“This bleach?” Nami grabbed Roronoa's mug away from him and downed that too. 

The swordsman didn't seem to notice. “He doesn't wanna talk to you, Dartboard,” he growled at the cook.

“We were talking fine before your wet blanket self got involved, Mossman.”

“You don't wanna talk to him, Eustass.” Roronoa warned.

Kidd suddenly coughed in surprise and choked down the entire piece of pig, bone and all. Both men stared at him.

Blackleg nodded solemnly and pointed at Kidd. “Real men swallow.”

“Sup. Trafalgar.” Kidd wheezed a little at the newest unexpected presence. “Pig?”

“Yes, actually,” Law gave them all a strange look. “We’re fresh out at our table. Unless you're intent on consuming it all, Eustass-ya?”

“Nah.  _ Uuurp. _ I got some pork for ya right here,” Kidd put on his biggest grin.

“... ...Blackleg-ya, if we can have the chef's indulgence.” Law turned, and the cook pushed off from the table and followed. He caught up with Law and leaned on his shoulder to whisper something. They both laughed.

Kidd pouted and watched them go. “Hope you're fuckin happy,” he grumbled at Roronoa.

The swordsman just grunted back, “Fuck off.”

“Just cuz you can't get your own self laid worth a damn—”

“Excuse me?”

Kidd plowed on, “Just sayin, those who can, fuckin do, and those who can’t…”

“Oh and THAT was you ‘doing’ it?  _ Porky?” _

“I’da had both on my dick in no time. Another five minutes, tops,” Kidd insisted. He stopped and thought about it, reflecting regretfully, “Oh my god we coulda done a spitroast.”

“A fucking what.”

Kidd sketched it out with his hands. “So you have one guy in the middle with a dick in each end and you—”

“Neverfuckingmind. You are SO full of shit. Just… don’t talk to the cook.”

Kidd pout-scowled at him. “Whyyy.”

“He’s spoken for,” Roronoa warned, crunching his empty tin mug in one hand.

Nami eyed them both for a moment, tapping her fingers on the table consideringly, then rose and called to the Strawhat sniper, “Usopp darling! My ledger, please? And a big sack. Big, big sack…” She swanned off.

“Does  _ he _ know that yet?” Kidd sneered at his greenheaded companion.

“Mind your business.”

“Oooo… that’s a no. Hey, seems like things are maybe in a sensitive stage right now, so I’ll do ya a favor.”

Roronoa sighed and rubbed his scarred-over eye. “Great. Wonderful. Much obliged—”

“HEY BLACKLEG.”

The swordsman looked up, horrified.

“YA WANNA SPIT-ROAST RO—”

Kidd threw up his metal arm against the three swords suddenly converging on his face. He leaped onto the table, stumbling a little from laughing too hard, as the red-faced swordsman readied a second strike. 

“Man! I thought you’d be right into all those three-sword positions—whoa—hey...”

Roronoa had aimed for his fucking dick this time, the bastard. Enough of that shit. Kidd blocked the strike again, then used his devil fruit powers to wrench the swords away from his opponent and off to the side. They scattered across the rocky ground, clattering loudly in the sudden silence.

The swordsman snarled and jumped up onto the table after him, bare-handed. In his peripheral vision, Kidd could see his own crew half-risen from their seats, hands on weapons, waiting for his signal. The Strawhats’ eyes were on him as well, poised for action. 

Kidd threw his own weapons to the side as well, signalling a friendly fight.

Nami pushed to the front of the crowd with a sack, and hollered, “Place your bets here, even odds!” 

The silent tension switched abruptly into raucous excitement. Brook’s fiddle kicked into a boisterous frenzy and the Bonney pirates’ drummer and piper joined in.

“PLACE YOUR BETS!”

Bonney jumped up atop her giant wooden chair and assumed the role of referee with way too much glee. “Oi! Blindgut’s rules, gentlemen: No weapons, no fruit powers, no haki. Everything else goes! Now,  _ fist _ on  _ face _ til someone don’t get up no more! FIST ON FAAAACE!”

Kidd edged down the table and spread his hands in invitation, manic grin plastered over his face. Platters and pitchers were rapidly cleared and money thrown down on both sides. Kidd knew their crews had been waiting for a good show, and he was gonna let them see some blood. He spared a glance in Law’s direction, and was rewarded with a gleeful smirk behind a fan of 1000-Beli bills. Fucker better be betting on him.

Roronoa apparently hadn’t gotten the memo about the ‘friendly fight’ though, because he went low for another dickstrike.

“Whoa, whoa you prick,” Kidd blocked it and threw his weight into a jab to the jaw. “The lady requested fists on faces.” Not that he was gonna fight clean either.

Roronoa dodged deftly – he was fast for a guy nearly as jacked as Kidd – and rejoined with his own.

“Yeah, I’ll get to your face, asshole. Not that it needs any work – you meet the wrong end of a wood chipper?”

“A buzzsaw,” Kidd grinned, going for a core punch that the swordsman absorbed with ease. “Attached to a guy’s fist.” It had been pretty fuckin sick, actually. Not, like, getting hit with it, but… generally.

“That’s pretty fuckin sick,” Roronoa finally grinned.

Their feet were pounding the stone table as they circled, fists flying at deadly speeds, but neither had landed any serious strikes yet. They were both bulky guys, heavy with muscle and more quickly fatigued for it. Kidd was bigger – he had the height advantage and the metal-as-fuck robot arm advantage, but that meant he’d be clumsier at grappling. He’d need to stay upright and get a few solid punches in to win.

So of course Roronoa kicked a mug of ale up in Kidd’s face, and went for a takedown. He got his arms around Kidd’s waist, and carried them both to the tabletop in a scattering of cutlery. The swordsman drew back and clocked him across the face before the other could recover, and Kidd felt his lip split between knuckles and teeth. A second and third punch went slightly wide of center, and the swathe of scar tissue across his cheekbone caught and tore.

Kidd reached up and grabbed the green head with his metal hand. He’d sized its grip for exactly this purpose, in fact. He rolled them and bashed that green ball into the table hard enough to crack the stone. He drew it back again and gave it another bash for good measure. The head hung heavy and limp in his hand. Was he out? Kidd was vaguely aware that dozens of hands were drumming a frenzied beat on the tabletop, voices screaming out encouragement and abuse… 

Kidd relaxed his grip and suddenly found himself being maneuvered into a chokehold. An arm crooked under his chin and squeezed.

“Fuchhk!”

He grabbed for the nearest thing on the table – a fork – and jammed it deep into the offending arm. There was a surprised curse, and the hold loosened enough for him to shove away and get upright.

“FOUL! Using a weapon!” Bonney screeched… and then giggled.

Abruptly, Kidd was smaller. Not by much height-wise, but his hard-won muscled bulk was reduced to about what it had been… three or four years ago.

“BONNEY, you FUCK!” Kidd fumed at the maniacally grinning girl. She’d used her devil fruit powers to de-age him. “You said no fruit powers!”

“Yeah, not for  _ you _ idiots. But I’m the ref! I can hand out penalties all I want!”

Chaos reigned around them. The crews were at each other’s throats, arguing over bets and unfair intervention. A couple fights broke out on the sidelines.

Roronoa was doubled over laughing, a rope of blood trailing from his busted nose. “Should I ask for your ID,  _ Captain Kid _ ? This can’t be legal!”

“Laugh it up, perv.”

Bonney’s strange powers didn’t seem to reverse damage or restore limbs, and his metal arm pinched and hung heavy on his slighter frame. Even so, it had more than enough power to finish this shit. Kidd grabbed his opponent by the haramaki, swung him overhead, and flung him down with enough force to crack the massive stone table in two. The crack echoed across the beach, rubble flew, and the crowd scrambled back as it collapsed. 

Roronoa didn’t even pause this time. He rolled, picked up one entire half of the stone, and whipped it at Kidd like it was a toy.

_ Aw hell _ , Kidd thought calmly. The flat of the stone hit him with a CLUNK and he found himself skidding backward.

“FOUL! Table counts as a weapon!” Bonney cackled as the boulder slammed Kidd halfway down to the water’s edge. Some road rash, there.

He bashed the stone in half, and picked himself up in time to see the swordsman shrink several inches.

“A table _is not a_ _weapon_ you utter LOON!” Roronoa was railing.

“It is. You threw it. It’s a fucking weapon.” Bonney argued.

“YOU’RE a fucking weapon.” Roronoa stalked over to Bonney, picked her up, and threw her right at Kidd.

And that's how the whole thing devolved into two eight-year-olds trying to dick-punch each other.

Law had deftly switched Bonney for her massive chair midair, so it wasn’t like she’d been injured or anything (the chair had smashed into Kidd). Blackleg had even interceded and kicked Roronoa on top of the Kidd-table-chair pile for “laying hands on a lady.” Bonney went ahead and penalized Roronoa a couple years for throwing her anyway (thus confirming that she was, in fact, a fucking weapon). Soon, Roronoa had managed to twist Kidd’s ill-fitting metal arm out of its flesh socket with a wet pop. Thus detached, Bonney judged this to be a weapon as well, and penalized Kidd a few more years for whipping his opponent across the face with it.

Eventually the ref was laughing too hard to call their fouls. They were both a fraction of their normal size, just getting tangled in their own clothes and slugging each other increasingly slowly as their injuries caught up with them. Kidd’s vision was edging in and out, when he heard a stock-pot bell being rung.

Bonney announced her decision: a tie. 

The miniaturized combatants collapsed into the ruins of the feast table. 

The Strawhat crew sauntered over and stood there laughing at the two. Kidd was just considering shredding them all in a hail of forks, when that freaky little deer-doctor bustled up. Armed with stethoscope and penlight, he checked the two for punctured lungs and concussions, and berated everyone involved.

“There’s just no telling what impact that level of damage could have on their younger, untrained bodies!” the deer-thing was squeaking with a distinct quaver. The assembled pirates had the grace to look a little ashamed of themselves.

“Zoro, you in there?” Nami knelt and patted the mini mossball.

“I’m napping, witch.”

Oh, yeah, he was fine.

“You look like shit, Tiny Captain,” offered Killer. Kidd squinted up at his first mate’s general outline.

“Bad shit,” Heat confirmed. Kidd was gonna fucking throttle these two.

Bonney bounced over like she’d personally won the fight, and Kidd just threw his detached arm at her stupid head. “CHEAP.”

“Careful. You know the penalty for swinging that thing around,” she practically leered. But she aged them both back to normal without further fuss.

Kidd could hear his bones lengthening, and his flesh filling back in. His vision sharpened, and a spotty cloud hovering behind Killer solidified into Law’s smartass face and ridiculous hat. 

“I’ll manage this one, Tony-ya,” said Law to the tiny deer doctor.

Kidd groaned, “The Surgeon of Death is going to piece me out and sell me for parts, don’t trust him.”

“Cute. You seem to require some re-assembly, though. And that’s my forte.” He motioned to Killer and Heat to pick up the stretcher.

“Thought it was disassembly…” Kidd muttered, and was ignored.

Law hefted Kidd’s metal arm over his shoulder and led them all to his garish submarine, still propped up on the beach.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole "Lone Survivor Club" from another fic but I dont remember which :( 
> 
> The Bonney Pirates are a celtic punk band :)


	5. Chaos fragments III / KidLaw ampufuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the good stuff salvaged from Law & Chaos -- damaged!Kidd kink, ampu fetish, injury stuff and manly KidLaw feels (and a ZoSan mention for good measure)

 

///[Flesh Socket]

\--- 

Kidd turned his detached arm over in his lap, while Law kicked Killer out of his medbay. Killer was hesitant to leave his captain alone in the doctor’s “deep sea death can,” but Kidd felt like he'd earned some one-on-one Law time.

“Save me a keg,” Kidd called to Killer as the first mate reluctantly headed for the door. “It’s been my birthday about twelve times today.”

“How about I bake you a fuckin cake. Trafalgar, I’ll be doing an inventory of his fingers and toes when you return him,” Killer threw out in his usual monotone.

“I might have to take a finger or two to settle the matter of that debt from the match,” Law countered with a completely straight face. They both stared at him.

“Joke.” He said without changing expression.

 _“…debt?”_ Kidd questioned his first mate, who was suddenly out the door, muttering about cakes. “How much did he borrow? And wait.” He turned to Law, who was gathering his equipment and snapping on latex gloves. “Who did you bet on?”

“No one. I bet that neither of you would win, because a) I’ve seen you both fight hand-to-hand, and know you’re well matched, and b) in this company, the surest bet is that shit will get weird.” He grinned, “I cleaned up, too. Nami would have shit herself if she wasn’t taking such a criminal cut…”

“Well, let me just offer you this finger, then.” Kidd flipped him off and Law took it as a compliment.

 

\---

Law tended first to the messed-up-face matter while Kidd did some field maintenance on his prosthetic arm. Cradling it in his lap, he tapped the blood out of its knuckles and dabbed oil into hidden canals. Then he eased one of the long snakey connection tendrils into a fistula above his arm stump, and started running the metal fingers through troubleshooting exercises. They stuttered and stuck like possessed things. He sighed and twisted the tendril for a better connection, but the jerks persisted. All that shrinking and growing, Kidd supposed—interface was fucked.

The ‘D.E.A.T.H.’-inked hands had paused, distracted, and Kidd didn’t have to look up to know that grey eyes were watching the tendril twist under the skin. This would be the first time Law had seen this injury up close.

Kidd tugged the tendril out of his arm with an extra forceful pop, and knew he had the doctor's full attention. He played it all cool, though, pretending to focus on his metal arm.

“…Flesh socket fucked?” Law ventured.

“That an observation or an offer?”

That got a genuine laugh. Law eyed the appendage. “Well, you came in here for some physical therapy, right? Lemme just…”

“Hey hey,” Kidd flicked away the hand as it skidded over his stump, “Finish with my face before you go touching my flesh socket. I’m traditional about these things.”

The doctor sat back for a moment, just looking at Kidd and letting that vague grin spread over his face. Then he pulled the metal limb out of Kidd’s lap and banged it onto the cart. Kidd was slammed back on the exam table, the doctor hovering over him like some monstrous spider, caging him in with his arms.

Kidd lay easy and unconcerned under him, tracking the flawless twist of his smart mouth and the flick of shadowed eyes as they surveyed his own damaged face. “Heh. Enjoy the show earlier?" he pushed. "I stirred it up ‘specially for you.”

Law scoffed. “Oh, all for me, really. And not just because you enjoy provoking other meatheads.”

“Yup.” Kidd tried out an innocent smile, which didn’t really work on him. “Knew that stuff would get you all worked up.”

“Meatheads flexing their meathumps? Please. My tastes are a little more complex.”

“Whatever, man. But no, I meant the sweet, sweet siren call of my faced getting punched in.”

“Hah! Haha… yeah, that was nice," Law admitted.

Oh man, Kidd sooo had Law pegged. Guy thought he was being so _subtle_ and _mysterious._ “Also my flesh socket getting popped out.”

“Stop saying ‘flesh socket.’”

“Kay.”

“I _do_ like your face this way,” Law murmured. He pressed his fingers over the split lip, the bruises darkening around the eye socket, and the open cheek. He was already hard, hips tensed across Kidd’s lap.

Kidd’s ghost arm was aching to grip around that haughty face and squeeze. But he held himself still, gripping the table with his remaining arm, and let the guy get his fix.

“But if you’re gonna get your face broke, you know I wanna be the one doing it.” The looming spider shifted in irritation and dug his thumb against the scabbed lip. Kidd lifted his face into the touch.

He was suddenly aware that the doctor had a scalpel in his other hand.

“Well.” Kidd stretched with cocky casualness, reaching up to rest his remaining arm behind his head. Laying himself out. “Plenty of raw material left for you.”

_“Room.”_

He hardly had time to draw breath before his head was cracked to the side and his other arm carved away from his body.

 

\---

Kidd could only sprawl, armless, and brace on the exam table as Law rode him, sliding over him fast and with too much friction. He could still feel things with the arm Law had detached – it was cold on the floor and grasping at nothing. His ghost arm seemed to scream in response, too. All sensation and no control. But _fuck,_ he was hard… His heart pounded, panic just around the edges. He pushed his shoulders against the cold table and shoved his hips up to meet the other’s frantic rhythm.

Law was flushed and quaking as he speared himself over and over. His hands gripped at the skin around Kidd’s ribs, sliding with sweat, the nails catching. He’d rushed the prep part (as usual, the idiot), not even bothering to take Kidd’s pants off all the way.

The smooth body Kidd knew from before – when it was all symmetrical tattoos and evenly tan skin – had changed. It was dotted with new starlike scars, little bursts of flesh still red and raised. Not being able to put his hands on that display was fucking Kidd up. _Fuck._ He wanted to rake over those ridges, wanted to grip at Law’s dripping hard-on, overload him with touch.

Law seemed to pick up on this, and quirked a corner of his mouth as he ran a hand down his own body, the bullet-punctuated spread of his ribs, and the muscle that hooked down from hip to cock. He gripped himself and pulled in time with the harsh slap of their skin.

Kidd bit his split lip to keep himself grounded. The ghost pains in both arms dimmed next to the feeling of that perfect, tight hole stretching and grasping around his dick.

Law was getting close, gasping open-mouthed, tensing. He toppled forward and braced his hands over Kidd’s shoulders. Kidd could drive up into him easier from this angle, and he picked up his pace as he felt Law’s body start to tremor. Kidd forgot he’d ever had arms, legs, anything... all sensation came down to the one point where he was buried in Law. He thumped his reeling head back onto the table with a crack as his own orgasm jolted through him. Everything was bright and intense. Perfect…

Law looked down at Kidd’s cut-up body and serene expression and gave a wild laugh.

“Venus de Milo,” he grinned with shining eyes.

  


\---

///[Ground fucking beef]

\---

Kidd found it totally charming how easily Law transitioned from doctoring to fucking and back again. Law had stayed slumped on top of Kidd for a while after they’d both come, breathing, and letting Kidd tongue the sweat from his neck. Then he’d hopped off, cleaned them both up, and cheerfully gone about prepping a tray of… scalpels. Huh.

Kidd rolled his shoulder joints and watched him. _What a fucking psycho,_ he thought appreciatively.

“You gonna give me my arms back? Or just keep cutting stuff away, here.” He waved his two arm stumps. “I thought a couple fingers was the deal.”

Law laughed and gave an exaggerated shrug as he pulled his pants back on. He left off his shirt and boots, though, and thumped back into his rolly doctor chair with panache. He was so goddamn perky after sex.

“Yeah, just gimme a second here. I’ll finish treating your face too. And actually… Can I clean up and close your arm stump _properly_? It looks like it was never really treated. It’ll take a week to heal and we won’t be able to attach the prosthetic today, but it’ll work better afterward, promise.”

“I dunno. It looks red, but it’s not actually that bad.”

The doctor continued on with his professional patter regardless. “It’s ulcerated, Eustass-ya. Is that even surgical steel? I’m surprised it hasn’t rejected the connecting hardware outright.”

Kidd pulled himself upright on the table with a grimace. He’d get fucked on his back, sure, but like _hell_ was he was gonna take doctoring lying down.

Law slid Kidd’s living arm back on easily with a waved hand, and closed the cuts on his face and chest with a few more stitches, before turning to the more difficult matter of the torn-away arm.

The stump was a couple months old now, but had never really closed over. It’d been far from a clean removal; raised, knotted scarring covered half his shoulder and trailed onto his chest. Kidd had built a series of experimental metal prosthetics that fastened to the end of the bone and plugged into the nerve endings. His current limb was his proudest, most refined work, exceeding even the functionality of the original arm. It felt completely natural by now.

The interface between metal and flesh remained an open wound, though. Spongy red granulation tissue puffed up around the seam every few days, and Kidd had to keep it trimmed back to stop the flesh growing out over the metal.

“This is a fucking mess, honestly,” Law fussed at him as he scalpeled down and cauterized the worst of it. “Didn’t you get a doctor to look at it?”

“No? Why. The arm was already gone.” Kidd felt a spike of irritation and suddenly wanted to pull the stump away. This was different from Law perving on the damn thing. This doctoring shit was… invasive.

“Never?? How did you not bleed out? A good doctor could have at least closed it off, avoided these keloids, made the surface smooth skin instead of like… a gaping wound.”

“It’s not a big issue, _Trafalgar_.”

“It could’ve been. You could’ve died.”

“I survived, didn’t I?” Kidd snapped.

Law sucked his teeth and dropped his eyes back to his task. “You could have… called me.”

“...You were doing important stuff,” Kidd muttered tersely.

The doctor was quiet and focused as he grafted a stiff mesh over the weeping flesh, applied a layer of gauze, and bandaged the whole thing.

“Let the graft site heal for a week or so, okay, before reattaching the prosthetic.”

“Yeah, fine.”

Law threw the scalpels in a steaming pot to the side, packed up the rest, and then rolled his chair back over to the exam table. He sighed and lolled his forehead against his patient’s shoulder, and Kidd stiffened slightly in surprise.

“…how did you lose it?” Law asked, voice muffled against Kidd’s neck.

Kidd sucked in a long breath through his teeth, and shook his head. “Another time.”

“Okay. But um… where is the arm now?”

Kidd laughed curtly at that. “It’s gone. Really really gone. Ground fucking beef, don’t get weird about it, okay? If I lose another limb I’ll keep it in a specimen jar for you.”

Law scoffed. “Great, yeah, I'm the body parts in jars guy, thanks. But I just meant... it's such a big piece of you gone."

"Plenty of raw material left for all your weirdest--"

"I'm being serious."

Kidd sighed heavily, and tried the serious approach for once. “Trafalgar… That hunk of metal is my arm now. It’s _me._ I made it.”

Law considered this in silence for a while, still looking down. The guy could sometimes get his moody little claws into something and refuse to let go, and it seemed like the arm might be one of those. Leave it to him to get sentimental over meat... Kidd was about to perform a deft change-of-topic maneuver -- maybe if Law's chair collapsed? that'd be funny and also not this conversation -- but then Law seemed to come around.

“Okay, yeah... I get it. And I do like the metal piece a lot; it’s very you.”

Kidd relaxed. “Practical too.”

Law finally laughed. _“Practical?_ That is not how I’d describe it or you. Did you seriously add extra muscles to it? Metal muscles?”

“For extra metal mightiness, uh fuck yeah I did?”

 

\---

Eventually they drifted back to Law’s room with its wide subsurface window and precarious stacks of oddities. They passed a bottle of some awful liquor back and forth, lounging around on the bed, not touching but near enough to feel each other’s heat. Laughing about nothing and getting good and stupid drunk.

 

\---

Unbeknownst to Kidd and Law, Killer had _not_ gone back to the party after departing the medbay, but had padded through the adversary’s submarine as stealthily as his giant metal accessories and flamboyant blond mane would allow, toward Law’s inner sanctum.

He had bypassed the old-fashioned lock easily and raided the room. He’d gathered up a number of items and turned to make his exit… only to find Law’s right hand duo, Penguin and Shachi, standing backlit in the doorway. Fortunately, the two immediately had caught onto why Kidd’s first mate was in Law’s bedroom holding his pruning shears, coffee grinder and pet guppy, and they helped clear the area of anything else that might recall Kidd’s traumatic arm loss, before heading over to Kidd’s ship to empty his room of any rope, bamboo sticks, or feathers.

Penguin and Shachi also returned all the items that Law had switched himself with when sneaking onto Kidd’s ship via Room: the anchor, three pairs of goggles, and Jörmungandr the intern. Killer in turn showed them how to stop Kidd’s magnetic bullshit from messing with the log poses and auto steering equipment, because seriously, the last time Kidd had been on Law’s submarine and using his magnetism for ~~something special~~ the whole sub had gotten stuck in a sad little loop for half a day, and no one wanted to interrupt them to tell them to knock it off. They’d just circled the same patch of ocean for hours and listened to that certain clank clank clank echo through the whole tin can of a ship.

 

 

\---

///[Enlightened gossip queens debate ZoSan PMS]

\---

That bottle of Law’s special reserve Awful Shit was almost gone now. Kidd passed it back to him and flopped on the bed, enjoying the warm numbness spreading over his lips, and Law all relaxed beside him.

He looked up at the ceiling and remembered that earlier comment about betting on the fight. “Hey, you’ve seen Roronoa fight without his swords before? Who with? I was sure he’d be a turtle on his back without them…”

Law _giggled._ “Blackleg. Constantly.”

“Ohhh of course. God, how are they not fucking yet.”

“They ARE. That’s the thing!”

“Hah! Really?”

“Oh my god.” Law sat up and made the same exasperated grimace Nami had earlier. “They have this _unbearable_ fuck-shame-pine cycle they go through, regular as clockwork.”

“Huh. So which is the ‘fight’ stage?”

“Oh, ALL of them. There’s a narrow window of honeymoon eyes and only moderate violence when they’re actually together. Then a long period of shame, denial, and outright murderousness. Then the pining, which is like the previous stage but with sexual frustration and not-subtle attention grabs… Anyway, I guess it’s like the repressed macho pirate version of marriage.”

“Aw, that’s kinda cute actually.” Kidd toasted their screwy happiness with the last of the bottle.

Law groaned and grabbed the bottle. “It’s not, it’s really not. While I was on their ship they did the whole loop twice. The final stretch is like PMS but with haki and actual fire. Nami told me it’s been ongoing almost since they met. The whole crew times their port calls around it… It’s tragic and stupid.” He drained the bottle and flung it somewhere.

“Huh. So I’m guessing I busted into the middle of that last stage,” Kidd mused.

“Yeah, with any luck you’ve advanced the cycle and we can all—”

“Spit-roast em!”

Law snorted. “Yeah, no. Do you really wanna get in the middle of that?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t object to that either,” Kidd grinned at him.

“Ha!”

“You must have already tried, though, right? To like, break into the bullshit cycle?”

“Obviously, I’ve tried. Have you _seen_ Blackleg-ya?” Law raised his eyebrows appreciatively.

“I _have_ seen Blackleg, yeah.”

“Yeah, I _saw_ you seeing Blackleg. Anyway. At first, before I’d witnessed the whole shitty merry-go-round, I figured one or both of them just needed some outside perspective. Or. Dick.”

“So selfless.”

“I am a doctor, after all,” Law agreed solemnly. He’d found another bottle of Acrid Stuff and popped it open. “But no. There’s just no way in. They are totally fixated on each other, totally mortified about it, and totally unwilling to even acknowledge it to others.”

“What a goddamn waste of time and ass.”

Sigh. “Cheers.”

 

\---

It was, as it turned out, totally possible to short-circuit the bullshit fuck-shame-pine cycle between zoro and sanji, but only if: 1) either was injured enough to allow the other’s protective nature to kick in (fairly rare), 2) if sanji had somehow filled up on extrovert stuff and was able to sit still for two fucking seconds and get on Zoro’s level (also rare), or 3) if Zoro ever acknowledged let alone complimented Sanji’s cooking or anything he ever did for the crew (simple, but again, tragically rare).

Kidd had triggered minor events in all three categories that night, with the blunt forces of fists and flirtation. Once Chopper had finished treating the swordsman, once Zoro had grumped enough that the entire overbearing crew had finally fucked off back to the party, and once Sanji had isolated himself in his kitchen with the dishes… After all that, Zoro finally snuck down to the kitchen, where he told Sanji that he liked the pork more than Kidd liked it, Sanji told Zoro he had bet his butcher knife on him in the fight, and then they sucked face for like five hours straight, ugh. Relative peace reigned for entire days. It was a goddamn miracle for all concerned.

 

\---

 


	6. Aurora / kidlaw arctic angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Law, Kidd, and a small band of Heart Pirates set out overland to the ghost city of Flevance, high in the North Blue arctic. Law grapples with his dead, and Kidd grapples with an unexpected aspect of his fruit powers that allows him to hear strange things under the aurora.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kidlaw in the Arctic fic that never ended up going anywhere. I was trying out an Indigenous-Law storyline that was somewhat canon-compliant (this was after Kidd's capture by Kaido and before his recent reappearance), but it eventually turned into selkie skin and this whole other au. There was sadness and cuddling and ghosts and revenge, it was actually p much the best

##  **Day 12**

Kidd’s steel arm froze and shattered like glass on the twelfth day of their trek over the tundra toward Flevance, and Kidd saw a look on Law’s face that he’d never seen there before. He'd known as soon as his metal fist had impacted against the ancient stones that he'd made a fatal fucking mistake. Such a stupid, childish thing to lose an arm over—arguing with Law and punching a wall when the dour man had refused to budge on whatever it was.

Kidd watched shards of himself scatter out from knuckle to elbow and then fall to the snowy ground.

“Kidd!! H-holy shit!” Law made a motion as though to catch the pieces, but then just stood there looking… looking fucking _helpless._ His face was pale under the tattooed patterns across his cheeks and chin.

“Whatever, shut up.”

Kidd shook his head to dislodge the sound—an ear-piercing shriek quickly muffled by the snow, but somehow still echoing on and on in his head. The echo joined the staticky din that had invaded his mind since coming to this frozen fucking place…

The sound of the Aurora.

The green lights snaked through the sky above them, crackling and buzzing like an out-of-range radio. Kidd knew he was the only one who could hear that buzzing, or the ghostly voices that murmured in it. Some electromagnetic bullshit, he supposed… or he was just going fucking nuts, as Law's crew (and his own) had been insisting recently. He'd starting hearing plenty of shit that wasn't real after a few months in Kaido's lightless cells, so yeah, they were all probably right.

Kidd cleared his throat, trying to ignore the voices. “I’ve made a ton of these. I’ll… I'll make another. Better one.”

“It’s the Cold,” Law murmured. He was combing through the sad fragments on the ground with an unsteady hand. A _bare_ hand. “God, I forgot what real cold was. Real cold takes everything, eventually. Pure death. I fucking forgot…”

“Don’t give me that bullcrap, and don't leave your skin exposed like that,” Kidd growled and tugged him up. “It was my fuckup. I hit the damn stone like an idiot, _I_ forgot how brittle cold makes steel.”

Law wasn't listening. He was fingering through the pieces hanging from the stump, with that look still on his face.

Kidd growled in irritation. He twisted away the dangling remains and threw that to the ground too. They made a harsh metallic shriek and then fell into the muffling snow, dead and silenced, and Kidd felt something primal shoot down his spine like ice. He was suddenly aware of the vast emptiness around them, like The Cold was something stalking them, unseen.

Just Law’s creepy bullshit getting to him, he told himself.

“Kidd, I'm so fucking sorry…”

“Will you shut the fuck up.” A strong living arm pulled Law into dense furs. Kidd held them both still, gripping the thin body against his larger one. “Just… stop talking.”

Law breathed in his warmth for a moment, wrapped in bear skins. “I can fix it. When we get there I can finally fix all your damaged—”

“ _No_ you fucking cannot. And anyway, I got like this the hard way, and I’m sure as fuck not letting you reverse it all.”

“Stubborn,” Law complained, pulling away. Irritation took over from fear, and that was enough to keep them both going.

They left the arm to be covered by snow and silence, in that ancient site with its tumbled stones and emptiness, like they’d left everything and everyone along the way.

 

 


	7. Hall Pass / ZoSan boyfriendfuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ZoSan modern AU fragment with cute boyfriend banter and light bondage. It's just 3+ kinds of trash, porny, giddy and fluffy, I cant stand myself

 

Sanji blew through Zoro's front door swinging his keys on one finger, wearing a bloody oxford and a slightly frantic look.

“Mossman, I need a lemon zester and one hell of a hall pass.”

Zoro paused mid-crunch, hanging by the knees in the kitchen doorway, and took out one blaring ear bud. “...Whose ass??”

“Idiot. Move.”

Zoro crunched up so Sanji could get by underneath him. He checked his watch. Weird… the workaholic never left his shop before eight if he could help it. Sanji ran this artisanal butcher shop / charcuterie / whatever, the hipster kind with twelve different ground meat mixtures on ‘tap’ and all these tatted-up, lumberjack-looking shop boys manfully wrangling sausage links in the shopfront. Hence the blood-spattered shirt—chronic nosebleeds.

Zoro twisted around to watch the blond ransack his kitchen drawers, apparently for some ass-related thing.

“Turkey baster somewhere in there, if that's—”

Sanji stopped and shot him a look. “What? No. I'm looking for a lemon zester. _And_ a hall pass… which, let me just say, I VERY fucking deserve after this hell week…”

Zoro plugged the earbud back in and resumed his upside down workout routine. Sanji was just getting himself into one of his rambling Sanji States. Probably just work-related; probably not requiring Zoro's input… He crunched and counted until, a few reps later, a blue eye was suddenly glaring in front of his face. 

Sanji tugged an ear bud out of Zoro’s head.

“Lemon zester.”

Zoro dangled, and thought carefully. “The vibrating thing?”

“NO, you houseplant. The thing that's like a cheese grater but with little bitty teeth.”

“...and whose ass is this for?”

Sanji threw the earbud down and went back to tearing apart the kitchen.

Zoro swung down from the door-mounted bar and left him to it. He took a quick shower, and settled in the sectional couch with his sweatpants on and a pile of physio grading next to him. This class he was TAing for was fuckin brutal, tests every week and three exams, all graded by a small team of grad students who were rumored to be robots but were actually masochists. Just constant work; Zoro loved it.

Sanji finally found what he was after and slid over the top of the couch to join the stoic gradbot. He held his prize and looked at Zoro, eyebrows raised expectantly. This usually meant that he thought Zoro was being too stoic and should say something. 

“...Bitty cheese grater,” Zoro commented.

“It’s a lemon zester.”

“For what.”

“Getting laid,” Sanji stated matter-of-factly.

Well. It wasn't the weirdest come-on the erratic gourmand had ever tried.

“Okay.” Zoro pulled the pert ass into his lap and went for it.

“Heyhey, hold it, hooold it, that’s not what I came here to… or actually… yeah, hm…” Sanji trailed off as strong hands grabbed at him greedily. His belt buckle clunked to the floor.

“Heh. Lemon zester…” Zoro shook his head. “You don’t have to stash all your weird kitchen stuff here just for an excuse to come over anymore. You know that right, Cook?”

“I know! Just… habit…” 

“Mhm.” Zoro focused on the deepening arch of the back in front of him. He pulled the shirttails free and let his hands wander up underneath.

Sanji cleared his throat and tried to focus. “I was tryna ask for a thing, though. Uh…” 

“Yeah? Something in particular?”

“Oh yeah, hall pass.”

Zoro paused for a second in case Sanji felt like making this easy and just saying what the hell that was. But the guy was either being coy or was getting distracted by the hand in his pants.

“That a position?” Zoro prompted.

“Hm? No, it's… do you seriously not know what a hall pass is?” Sanji looked over his shoulder.

“Well, sorry if I don't know all the gay lingo like some scene queens—”

He could just feel the force of Sanji's eyeroll. “It's not even! It's such a straight boy thing, you've definitely heard it, bro-y scene like yours. Like ‘bruuuh, Vegas bruh, got a hall pass from the ol ball and chain,’ ugh.”

Zoro frowned. “Great. So am I the bro or the ball and chain.”

Sanji clambered around to face him instead. “Oh my god don't be ugh about it. I'm just observing how your muscle nerd crowd is a whole thing. Don't get off-topic.”

“Well you're the one calling people bros, so—”

“Well you're the one going to grad school for gym, so.” 

Sanji crossed his arms. He was doing his pout thing, as though Zoro was the one being difficult. And he was still all disheveled and covered in blood… A familiar tic went through Zoro's eye at the exact same time as that other tic went through his dick.

“Other way. Face the other fuckin way.” Zoro turned the blond away from him and got back to work on his pants.

“Nope, you're dealing with this FACE.” Sanji stubbornly resisted.

They ended up on the floor really quickly, as usual, Sanji trying to mush his face against Zoro’s, and the latter trying to pin him facedown. It did kinda seriously irritate Zoro that his superior crunch power didn’t seem to count for anything against the noodle-boned butcher. The guy knew it, too, and liked to aggravate his sparring partner with non-standard moves.

“If I give you a forehead-hickey, I win,” the clinging blond declared.

“NO.”

“C’mere, sexy forehead.”

“NO.”

It fuckin paid off once Zoro did get him under control, though. The satisfaction was nigh euphoric. This time Zoro got the butcher’s hands behind his back and a knee in his spine, and Sanji gave up his squirming with a laugh. He hmmed against the rug and allowed his hands to be secured with the ever-ready bandana. He was hard and eager when Zoro turned him back over and settled heavily overtop of him, smothering him with a deep kiss.

“It’s been a second,” Sanji breathed when Zoro let up.

“Yeah. I’ll go slow.”

“Mm. Kay but how about not slow.”

“Heh…”

Zoro went ahead and ignored that request. He liked to draw out the lead-in once he’d gotten to this point, to get back at the guy for all his ridiculous shit, but also because Sanji just got more and more fuckable the more desperate and disheveled he got.

Sanji blew his long curtain of blond hair out of his eyes and glared down at the too-slow proceedings between his knees. “Put the fucking dick in your mouth, fucking put. The fucking dick. In your fucking… ah!… fuck,  _ ah…” _

That was the third finger, and Zoro let himself grin a little. He watched the long limbs tense and un-tense as he eased his hand in and out. He gave the needy dick another swift, brief massage with his tongue, and stifled a laugh when Sanji kicked him.

“You want me to fucking beg??”

“Yeah, I’m a fan of that,” Zoro nodded his encouragement.

“DICK IN YOUR MOUTH.”

“That’s not begging…”

“DICK,” Sanji insisted.

Zoro laughed and came up to kiss the irate butcher. “...Dick??”

“Dick.”

With his slight smile widening into a full-on grin, Zoro got up so he was straddling Sanji’s shoulders. The blue eye widened, “Not THAT di—hhhhnnnck”

“Hm what?”

Sanji gave a deeply sarcastic roll of his eyes. He couldn’t say much else, though.

Zoro eased in deeper, feeling himself gradually hardening in the wet mouth with its quick tongue. 

“C’mon, get me hard.” He pulled back a little so Sanji could swallow and adjust his head, then pushed in deep enough to nudge the back of his throat. “C’mon. You want me to fuck your throat? Suck.”

A cocky eyebrow challenged him to do just that, and Zoro obliged. He watched the smooth lips strain around his cock and the blue eyes start to water. Zoro fit a hand around the back of his neck and angled it way up, so he could hold him still and fuck down into his face. Sanji started making those urgent sounds he was after, and he felt himself edging already… fuck.

“Mm! Mmmm!!…  _ ah!” _ Sanji’s eyes were screwed shut and his mouth wide open, gasping air, as Zoro pulled out of his mouth and hurried to get a condom on and lube himself up. 

“Face or floor?”

“Face, cuz deal with it,” Sanji determined, stubborn streak still fully intact despite his flustered flush.

“Fair.” Zoro left him on his back. 

He parted the well-toned thighs and braced a hand on each one, pressing Sanji's legs so wide apart they were touching the floor. God, this body was just made to be fucked, it was so smooth and yielding. Zoro’s dick found the tight hole, and it opened up around him just as smoothly. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, steadying himself, “I can’t believe how flexible you are. I could do anything to you…”

Sanji made a little scoffing noise between heavy breaths. “Think you could you shut up and fuck me, though?”

Zoro leaned into him suddenly and heavily, without answering. That got a harsh intake of breath, but it wasn’t yet the desperate gasping he was going for. He canted his hips and dragged out frustratingly slow. He really  _ wanted  _ to let go and just… fucking pound the hell out of the trim, pliable body. Just as much as Sanji wanted him to do it. But he was the disciplined one, here, and also, holding out on the other was a pleasure in itself.

He slid into that perfect heat over and over, deliberate and deep, until the blond’s voice got that wild edge to it. He was as vocal when he was being fucked as the rest of the time, and it got to Zoro just as much. In a good way—Zoro usually prided himself on being all quietly composed during sex, but Sanji had this way of completely letting himself go, and taking the other with him.

“Zoro,  _ Z-zoro _ ah! Ahh!”

“Shit… ah, fuck, Cook…” Zoro gathered up both legs and hooked them over his shoulder, so he could fold Sanji almost in half and sink straight down into him. Their faces were close together, they were breathing each other’s air, hardly even hearing what was being gasped out between breaths. Sanji was saying something like “Want you, want you, want you,” and Zoro was probably just saying “Cook” and “fuck,” but even he wasn’t sure. 

“I’m gonna come,” Zoro gasped out finally.

“Fuckin cmon then,  _ ah…” _

It felt like he could just come and come like this. Everything was so tight and hot, Sanji was kissing him and he was getting lightheaded. Zoro waited until his ears stopped ringing and his blood pressure went down a little. He opened his eyes to Sanji’s flushed face, still glassy-eyed with need. He loosened the bandana and shuffled down to put that dick in his mouth, as requested. 

“Yes… fuck…” Sanji twisted out of the ties and crossed his arms under his head, shuffling until he was comfortable.

They’d been fucking for a few months now, more and more regularly, and Zoro pretty much knew how to get him off any time. It was better to make him wait a little, though. Winding the guy up so tight like this, he'd go over the edge like a ton of bricks. Zoro swallowed him down smoothly and then pulled back off until he was massaging the head with his tongue, sucking hard. He jammed two fingers into his ass at the same time, hard and even, like Sanji wanted when he was close. And he was so, so close right now… He’d hooked both legs over Zoro’s shoulders and was hanging on, tensed and swearing. 

He came and was wordless for a full minute while Zoro worked every last drop out of him with the same steady insistence. 

“...Unnh… hh…”

Zoro grinned to himself a little as he caught it all in his mouth. Catching Sanji’s eye, he licked stray drops from his fingers and swallowed it all with deliberate relish.

“Fuck… that’s hot,” Sanji commented, letting out a spent laugh and flexing the feeling back into his toes. 

“Mm…” Zoro sighed and sat up to consider his own state. His dick was half-hard again, come leaking down inside the condom. He watched Sanji lying back and trying to recover his head, still all hazy and addled with pleasure. So fucking fuckable. 

He pulled the blond over by the arm and nipped his ear.

“Ah!”

“Can I do it hard?”

“I dunno.  _ Can _ you?” Sanji needled him. “Ow.”

Zoro gave a soothing suck at the chomped ear. “I dunno,  _ can _ I?”

“Haha… mmm. Floor?”

“Yeah…” Zoro moved on to sucking at his neck urgently, massaging what was now a fully hard erection.

Sanji laughed at him. He turned over facing the floor and braced on his forearms while Zoro fit a new condom on. “I should make  _ you _ beg instead. Shitty dog, practically humping my leg.”

He quieted for a moment as Zoro pushed him flat and ground into him in one insistent push.

Sanji steadied himself and chuckled, “ _ Ahh… _ haha. Here, boy. Now sit—mff!”

Lying atop of him like this, Zoro had his hands free, so he clamped one over Sanji’s mouth.

“Shhh… stay. Good boy.”

Sanji huffed an outraged sigh through his nose at the order. But by the way he moaned into Zoro's hand and arched his back into Zoro's driving thrusts, he was probably gonna come again soon.

 

* * *

 

“Why do you always wanna cuddle on the floor?” Sanji teased him, afterward. “There’s pillows right up there. I got them for a reason.”

“Just stay still a second,” Zoro mumbled from somewhere between Sanji's shoulder blades, thick arms wrapped around the narrow waist.

“I wanna smoke.” Sanji was already fidgeting and trying to get up.

Zoro tightened his arms so he was stuck.

“Why the floor, is all I'm saying,” Sanji objected.

“Well you're the one who likes to fuck on the floor, so.”

“Well you're the one who flips furniture when they get too into it, so.”

Zoro grinned to himself. “Yeah… You make yourself hell to wrangle, to be fair.” He shifted up a little so he could hook his chin over Sanji's shoulder.

Sanji laughed. “You like it.”

“Mm. I like fucking you into the ground, yeah.”

_ “Ah...” _ Sanji shifted and exhaled sharply at the lips on his neck. “You angling for another round? That why we're still down here in the fuck zone?”

“Nah, just comfortable.” Zoro let up his hold a little, so Sanji could turn in his arms and settle in facing him. “Hey, so what's this ass thing you want?”

“Hall. Pass.” Sanji sighed, and then swallowed. He was suddenly tense in Zoro's arms. “Uh. So first of all, the lemon zester. I need it to lend to this… individual? So I have an excuse to go over and say heyy? Cuz earlier he was kinda like, heyyyy, lookin for a lemon zester. And this is NOT how I normally do things, okay. I'm pretty much the king of cling. But this guy is Christian Slater-level exceptional, and it'll be just once because honestly I'm getting a Christian-Slater-in- _ Heathers _ vibe more than anything and  _ that _ is a sometimes-food…”

Zoro listened for a while, then counted to ten once he'd gotten lost, and tried to get back into the conversation. “...what?”

Sanji frowned. “What part is unclear.”

“The… hall pass.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sanji muttered to the ceiling.

“No, literally just use words that go together.”

“I have been! I've been so patient and thorough!”

Zoro reached for his sweatpants, lying on Sanji's other side. “I'll just fucking Google it. Gimme my phone.”

“N-no wait. Uh!” Sanji extended a long leg and kicked the pants across the room.

“...This is getting weird,” Zoro growled, getting up. “Did you not eat all day again? You know it's real ironic how often you forget to feed yourself.”

“I did forget but that's not the issue here!”

“Let go of my leg.”

“No!”

Zoro sighed at the weirdo hugging his ankle. “Okay. What's a hall pass.”

“It's when you ask your otherwise committed, exclusive partner for a one-time go-ahead to bang someone else because Christian Slater wants to get in your pants and it's a fucking sin to pass that up!”

Zoro sat down heavily on the couch. Sanji slowly came to sit next to him, legs folded and hands in lap. 

“One-time,” Sanji insisted. “Christian Slater.”

“...actual Christian Slater?”

“Oh, uh, no, I just mean he's really hot and kinda weird.”

Zoro rubbed his head, his mind grappling with several, very urgent aspects of this matter. There was one part that really stuck out, though.

“So you'd say we're… exclusive? And stuff?” Zoro wondered, a little wild-eyed.

Sanji frowned. “Aren't we? Wait, are you—”

“Nono, I'm not seeing anyone else. I just mean like, we're…  _ in _ a committed  _ thing? _ You'd say?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Sanji confirmed, just realizing that he'd maybe skipped several steps in this whole talk. “Yeah, like, dating.”

“Oh, okay.”

Sanji was getting flustered again. “I mean, I guess I don't know if you wanna be… that way. We don't have to. It's so status quo, right? Ugh, haha, very not radical haha…”

“Nono, it's good. That's good.” 

Zoro wasn't sure what else to say, and Sanji was looking at him expectantly, so he gave him a little peck.

Sanji seemed to accept this. “Okay good. Good talk. Um. So… all of it is good?”

“All of what.”

“Can I… the hall pass?”

Zoro frowned and thought. “Oh that. I don't know. I need to think some more.” 

Sanji shuffled a little and Zoro realized he was stealing a look at the clock. “How much more.”

“Well more than a few fucking minutes!”

“Hour?”

“You're planning to go right now??”

“I was… Um.” Blue eyes wandered around the room. “Or not. If that's weird.”

“You’re weird. You're always so weird.” Zoro grumbled, trapping him in another bear hug and toppling them both to the couch. Sanji huffed but Zoro held on, an unfamiliar feeling making him stubborn.

Sanji waited til the count of ten, then went about disentangling himself from the other, anxious for a smoke.

“Let go of my leg,” Sanji complained.

“No.”

“Are you getting clingy?”

“No…”

He laughed. “Monosyllabic Marimo.”

 

* * *

Zoro wasn't budging on the time-to-think issue, so Sanji had to message whoever it was to postpone the lemon zester handoff. He'd already delegated things at the shop, so he actually had a rare evening free. He made snacks, and Zoro dragged the duvet over to the couch.

“So Christian Slater is a psychopath,” Zoro offered his thoughts on the nonsense movie they were watching, “But also, the Heathers seem like a high school Resident Evil situation. I'd purge with fire too.”

“Um, Christian Slater is a misunderstood super sweetheart with a minor murder problem,” Sanji objected. “And the Heathers are fabulous beyond reproach.”

“Her scrunchie matches her lipstick,” Zoro complained. 

“That’s how you know she's a powerbitch.”

“I could tell from the shoulder pads.” 

They watched Christian Slater shoot some more frat boys.

“Okay, not terrible,” Zoro approved by the end. “But I'm not convinced that Christian Slater should be allowed to fuck anyone, let alone MY otherwise exclusive, committed… thing.”

“You can say boyfriend,” Sanji offered.

“... 'Boyfriend,’” Zoro tried the word out, and immediately felt that stubbornness spike again. “Hmph.”

“Well this actual guy’s not a psycho killer, okay? He just… likes to give the impression that he is?”

“You're not selling this super well,” Zoro informed him.

Sanji considered the matter. “Well, what if you met the guy and saw that he was okay? You might already know him, actually, we have friends in common.”

“I doubt that,” Zoro grouched. “Who is it then.”

“Okay so you know your stupid orc-looking friend with the hair?”

Zoro spat out his cucumber water. “KIDD is Christian Slater??”

“Oh my god NO. It's his boy-thing, not him. As if I'd let  _ that _ get its dick in me, plllease. He literally clanks when he walks.”

“He’d just be getting his dick in you by proxy,” Zoro put on his own pout face. “And I didn't know he had a boy-thing.”

“Yeah, apparently Christian Slater is into orc ass…”

Something occurred to Zoro. “This guy's a top?”

Sanji thought. “I guess…? He made it pretty clear how he'd like to do me in particular, so I assume—”

“Whoooaa, what if Kidd's a bottom,” Zoro interrupted.

“Hah. I doubt it. He’s always talking like he's the one getting his dick in everyone and everything… Christian Slater’s probably vers.”

“Nope, Kidd's a pillow-biter, it's settled,” Zoro settled back smugly. “And I can leg-press more than him.”

He got a pillow thrown at his smug green head by an exasperated boyfriend. “Yeah, yeah, you're supreme dick, dumbass. Biggest, sweatiest package around. Fucking typical top...”

“Damn right,” Zoro caught the next pillow. “Well I'm feeling rosier about this whole hall pass thing.”

Sanji paused with a cushion in hand and raised a flawless eyebrow. “Really? I literally just had to talk up your little guy?”

“Yeah, heh. Just make sure Christian Slater knows how monster this meat be.” Zoro patted his junk.

“I’ll bring it to his attention,” Sanji shook his head. But then he laughed and put his head on Zoro's lap. “Boyfriend,” he murmured.

“Boyfriend,” Zoro affirmed. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The weirdest come-on Sanji ever tried was the shellfish and semen concept menu


End file.
